


This Fortress of Tears

by Neila_Nuruodo



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Bondage, Canon Divergence, F/M, Female Warrior of Light - Freeform, Imprisonment, Manipulative Behavior, Masturbation, Obsessive Behavior, Patch 5.2: Echoes of a Fallen Star Spoilers, The WoL is not okay, Yandere Warrior of Light
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:46:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25438651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neila_Nuruodo/pseuds/Neila_Nuruodo
Summary: The Warrior of Light has hit the wall.  She cannot bear to finish off the last of the Ancients, and she no longer cares what she must do to avoid a final conflict with Elidibus.  When the Scions hit upon a possibility to keep him safely trapped instead of destroyed, she is determined to enact this plan.Elidibus, of course, does not much care for this.  However, in time, might he not come to appreciate her attempt at mercy?  Certainly he cannot fail to notice the mannerisms, the behaviors, indicative ofthat soul...
Relationships: Elidibus/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please mind the tags and warnings. This will be rather darker than my usual work. If I miss something that ought to be tagged, please do let me know!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ich habe Pläne grosse Pläne  
> Ich baue dir ein Haus  
> Jeder Stein ist eine Träne  
> Und du ziehst nie wieder aus  
> Ja ich baue ein Häuschen dir  
> Hat keine Fenster keine Tür  
> Innen wird es dunkel sein  
> Dringt überhaupt kein Licht hinein

I could not help but fret over Elidibus.

I did not know what his plans might entail, but that he stood in opposition to myself and the Scions seemed plain. He would be wise to avoid conflict with me—it so often proved fatal for my opponents—but then, that had been Emet-Selch's plan, and I could not forget how that had turned out.

I had failed to anticipate the conflict with Emet-Selch. More to the point, I had not expected him to somehow puncture the armor sheathing my heart. When the moment arrived, I found myself unprepared. Loath to fight.

But no other path stood before me.

I could not let it happen again. I had failed Emet-Selch, and in the doing failed myself. The chink driven through my protections still gaped, and Elidibus had stolen his way in, taking his place upon the throne of my heart. It was early yet, this time. Our inevitable clash loomed on the horizon, but it was not imminent. There was still time to take precautions, to lay plans.

To make certain that, however our conflict might go, I would not be forced to end him.

He was the last of his kind. Precious—irreplaceable. An unsundered soul. An enigma, powerful and compelling. I wanted time to unravel his mysteries, to peel him apart layer by layer. I needed time, preferably alone with him, to win his heart.

He _would_ love me as I had come to love him.

My worries again cycled back to the scant tidbits of information I had wrung from him in Rak'tika, in the Crystarium. I could not shake the certainty that he was _special. Different,_ in some ineffable way, from other Ascians. But I could only guess at _how_ —I had nothing concrete to spring from. Nothing beyond white robes instead of black, a concern with balance that seemed to override even the drive to restore Zodiark. An off-hand comment inviting me to view him in simpler terms.

That odd recording—the images woven of light… the "Venat" figure's conversation seemed to say that Elidibus had given himself over to form Zodiark's heart. But what did that mean?

Well. If I had my way, I would have plenty of time to coax that information from him. I could be quite charming when I wished to, a skill forced upon me by necessity. It was high time it worked to benefit me rather than one of the causes that seemed to stick to me like burrs wherever I went. But perhaps my conviction that he was different would also serve to convince the Scions to try a different tactic with regards to this Ascian. Yes… surely I was not the only one to see it.

"I worry," I confided in Urianger some time later, "that white auracite may not avail us against Elidibus."

As I had hoped, he withheld any disbelief he felt, giving me a thoughtful, curious look. "Pray, whence cometh this concern? It hath ever sufficed in the past."

"Has it?" I countered, careful to soften the challenge with a smile. "Surely you recall the difficulty we had with Emet-Selch. Not only did we struggle to trap him with it, he shattered it ere I could finish the blade of light. It was no small fortune he was so set on assaulting me that he did not flee."

Urianger's expression grew troubled, one fist supporting the thoughtful cant of his head. "In truth, between the ferocity of the conflict and the rapidity with which events resolved, I cannot say I recall the finer details with great clarity. It has been some time, and I did receive no small injury before…" His eyes turned once more to mine. "If thou art certain that it transpired thus, I shall rely upon thine account."

I released my indrawn breath, slow and quiet. "I am sure of it. For a moment I thought all lost. I am not like to forget it soon. But recall, that was after a grand act of creation—the illusory reconstitution of Amaurot. Elidibus will make no such concession for us." I sighed. "It worries me. I think we should consider another approach, if possible."

"As of the present, we have only one way to deal with Ascians. Hast thou an alternative?"

"Well… nothing so concrete. But I think we should look into ways to trap and keep him, rather than simply ending him. After all… he does seem to be the last remaining inhabitant of the original star. What does it say of us if we eradicate them all with no attempt at preserving their existence? And who knows what we might learn from him, should he be grateful at being spared?" I raised my gaze to his. "Of course, it may come to nothing in the end. But I am not sure I could live with myself if I did not at least try."

He smiled. "Thou art possessed of a kind and noble heart, my lady. As thou knowest, we already seek to create vessels which might bear our souls once more unto the Source. It may be that the selfsame methods which might contain both the mind and soul for a journey between worlds might also serve to hold an Ascian for a longer period than white auracite hath shown itself capable of doing." A crease drew his brows together. "With what we have lately learned of this substance, I am forced to wonder… did we truly bind their souls in place and force them once more unto the lifestream? If white auracite can hold but the soul or mind but not both…" He straightened, his expression smoothing once more. "But I risk wearying thee with idle speculation. I shall bring thy concerns before all involved in this endeavor. I doubt not that we will devise what thou desirest, if such a thing can be done."

"Thank you, Urianger." I sighed. "There is something different about him, I know it. I dare not enter into any sort of conflict with him until I understand what."

"Know thine enemy?" he said with a grin.

I bit back on a heated retort— _he is not my enemy!_ Instead I nodded mutely, mastering myself. "The Ascians use crystals of darkness to possess people and to escape to the rift, right? Perhaps we can use that somehow. If you ever need to inspect my own crystals—if you think it might help—you have but to ask." I smiled. "I want to help."

He gave a sweeping, elegant bow. "And we are full glad of thy assistance, as always."

I let a satisfied smile cross my lips as I watched him stride away. With any luck, the seed I had just planted would come to bear fruit.

* * *

It was not a quick process, nor one free of setbacks. But oh, how the tedious and troublesome errands struck differently when I felt so deeply invested in their outcome. Far from grabbing the first crystals at hand, slaying the nearest beasts of requisite kind, I searched and sought until I was satisfied. Only the best would do for this endeavor.

Of course, the diversion in the Scions' research may have resulted in some delay to finding the solution to their own issue. But then, who could truly say? Perhaps the breakthroughs in one effort contributed to those of the other. Whatever the case, in the end I found myself holding the culmination of our efforts, the key to my plans.

The Scions had taken to calling it "black auracite," though in truth it was something far more subtle than its name implied. Fine brass filigree crowned the wider end of the slightly conical rod, the delicate filaments of metal piercing the crystal to disappear from sight. Visually, the dark overpowered the light, but within, the two aspects intermingled in a complex, mazelike pattern, creating what should, if all went according to plan, serve as a trap to draw Elidibus's essence, his soul and self, in. From there, all that should be needed to keep him inside was to exert my will; the auracite would amplify it such that it could override even an unsundered Ascian. Or so went the theory.

In truth, all my hopes rested upon this. I had more than once seized the opportunity to seek Elidibus out while the Scions were otherwise engaged. On the few occasions I had succeeded in speaking with him privately he had shown no warmth, no inclination to listen no matter what I said. Meanwhile, the newly awakened warriors of light went about the land righting wrongs and taking care of what problems the smallfolk could not… and each day saw further reliance, further contentment to simply place all troubles in their hands.

I had made an effort to thwart Elidibus's plans in Eulmore, but without a solid understanding of his goals, his intentions, I met with no real success. The only positive to come from it had been another conversation, this one a bit longer and more revelatory. Perhaps, with the advancement of his plans, he had been feeling generous, or at least less guarded, but he let naught slip beyond tantalizing hints once more. Still, to hear his voice, to see him smile—how quickly I grew accustomed to seeing him in the guise of Ardbert—was a potent balm to my soul.

I needed more time with him. Now that this protective container was complete, that could be accomplished. When I tasked one of the Crystarium's crafters to make a necklace with a setting for the auracite so it could hang suspended around my neck, I earned a few odd looks from the Scions. My explanation—that I could not say when the opportunity to use it might arise, nor how much time I would have before he might try to flee—seemed to satisfy them.

I turned the majority of my energy now to unraveling his plans. If our theories were correct, he bore his crystal of darkness somewhere on Ardbert's form. I had to get my hands on it; barring that, he would either escape or I would be forced to destroy him. I had seized the opportunity in Eulmore to look him over covertly; he did not display it openly, as Lahabrea once had. Of course, with his mastery of illusion it might be disguised, but I suspected he felt no need for such a subterfuge. Simply carrying it on a piece of concealed jewelry or in an inner pocket was far more probable.

Now came the next hurdle—somehow getting him out of Ardbert’s body and safely into my auracite. Inconveniently, the Scions had finally begun to develop some empathy for the Ascians, meaning they would likely be upset if I simply ambushed him. For better or worse, though, it seemed like we were headed toward conflict. His little “warriors of light” had turned yet more hostile toward the “warrior of darkness,” and I had to wonder if it was some natural, instinctive opposition or if Elidibus had been whispering to them, poisoning them against me. Damnably, he yet remained elusive, coordinating and guiding them but showing no hostility, no threat himself.

Something had to change.

* * *

I forced away twinges of guilt as I strode past the broken bodies of Elidibus’s “warriors of light.” They had proven themselves useful pawns to him—much as I myself had played the pawn to many a higher power when I had been weak—but they had never stood a chance against me. By the smile yet lingering on his lips, he had known it. Perhaps he thought it would make me stay my blade. Perhaps he thought I would suffer from performing my duty. If so, he did not understand me in the slightest.

The one thing I cared about stood before me. Woe betide anything that got between us.

“Once more you prove the strength of the gift.”

Calm determination flowed through my body, filling me with purpose as I stepped forward. His eyes narrowed.

“Will you offer me violence? I have done nothing to you.”

“You speak as though our paths are not set against one another. You know I walked beside Emet-Selch. I did not turn my blade to him until I had no alternative—indeed, it was he who struck first. But you refuse to consider working with us. Is there a path of peace or not, Elidibus? Is there hope for a peaceful accord between us?”

Ice; his eyes were like chips of ice. The blue seemed almost to wash paler from the force of his scrutiny blasting me. His face hardened, the lips pressing tight, the brow lowering. The jaw bunching.

“Nay,” he said at last. “There is not. Shall we put an end to this tiresome charade, then?”

For a moment I paused, taking what might be the last chance to admire him. If something went awry… I banished the fear. I had done all I could. It was in the hands of fate now. “We have our parts to play. Let us see them through.”

* * *

Each blow I brought upon his borrowed flesh pained me as though I struck myself. If his body had truly been his own… I wondered if I could in fact have brought myself to hurt him, in that case. With each injury I did him, though, I renewed my vow. He would not die by my hand if I had any other choice.

I would keep him safe from any who would see him destroyed. It was all I could do. And in time, he would understand, and he would love me too.

It seemed holding back the full extent of my strength while fighting his pawns had paid off; surprise struck across his face as he fell, too weakened to continue. Panic jolted me; I dropped my weapon and dashed forward. His form barely hit the ground before my hands were already on him, digging, pressing, searching. No necklace tucked into the breastplate, no rings or bracelets… it _had_ to be somewhere. My hands scrabbled desperately over pockets, my agony mounting as the seconds ticked by. Wait… there! In a pocket over his heart, a lump… I dug it out and held it up. A cry burst from my lips. There it was, finally!

I fought with the neck of my shirt, ripped the black auracite free, and held it aloft. With a useless prayer to the Twelve, I shoved the dark crystal down into the metal filigree of the top. It lodged in perfectly. I held my breath. For a moment there was no change, but then the white portions of the complex flashed and began to glow. I stared, transfixed, as the dark portions next began to… well, _glow_ was not the word. It was an antiglow, perhaps; they grew so dark that it looked like they had been simply cut out of existence. Slowly the two aspects began to even out, light and dark bleeding together once more until it looked the same as before.

I peered closely at it with a frown. No, I realized, it wasn’t _quite_ the same. It was noticeably darker now. And, I realized, the dark crystal at the top was no longer a purple-black—it looked like it had been drained, now a pale inert gray. Did that mean it had worked?

"What have you done?!"

I jumped near out of my skin, a chill walking over me at the utter fury in his voice. My head snapped down to Ardbert’s body, but he lay motionless, sprawled.

“What _is_ this?” Horror dawned in his voice, but I breathed out relief. It seemed it had worked.

“It’s okay,” I soothed, keeping my voice low. “You’re safe. It will be okay.” My friends came running over, and I raised the black auracite to show them.

“Did it work?” Alisae gasped, eyes wide. I gave her a solemn nod, and a grin broke across her face. “Wonderful!”

“And art thou facing any difficulty keeping him contained with thy will?”

I frowned. Now that Urianger had brought it to my attention, I wasn’t having any difficulty at all. In fact, I couldn’t feel him trying to escape, though when I focused I could sense a great darkness within the crystal. But if the Scions realized I wasn’t needed to keep him contained… well, I was not about to risk it. “It is not easy,” I said, trying to make it sound like a somewhat chagrined admission. “But I believe I can maintain it indefinitely. No doubt it will get easier with time.”

Urianger gave a thoughtful nod. Thancred leaned closer, peering at the auracite.

“He’s really in there, then?”

I gave another nod, resisting the urge to excuse myself, to stow myself away somewhere private and speak with Elidibus. At the moment he was silent; I didn’t know if the others would be able to hear him as I had or not, and I was not sure I wanted them to. But neither could I disappear too quickly without raising a few eyebrows. Gritting my teeth, I pasted on a smile and prepared to wait out the inevitable lengthy conversation.

* * *

It felt like hours before I finally slipped away, but as soon as I was free I made my way to my room in the Pendants. I had managed not to burn any bridges or, I was reasonably sure, behave in a way that would raise any flags. Elidibus had nearly frightened the life from me when he began speaking partway through the Scions’ discussion; fortunately it seemed they could not hear him. He could most assuredly hear them, however, and he thought little of their plans and intentions.

But now we were finally alone. I sighed as I stripped my armor off, letting my sore, tired body fall onto the bed and for a moment just relaxing. The feeling didn't last. I was jittery, anxious to check on Elidibus, to finally speak with him now that we were alone. Gods, it barely felt real after so long hoping, daydreaming. I cradled the ornate crystal in my hands.

"Elidibus?" I said softly. There was no response. I focused my will on the black auracite, on my _need_ to speak with him, and tried again. "Elidibus?"

"I have no desire to speak with you."

No doubt this was all quite a shock. He would need time to adjust. "It's okay," I reassured him. "Give yourself time. You'll be safe with me."

He did not respond, and my heart ached. I wanted to hear his voice. Patience, I reminded myself; I needed to have patience. Good things came to those who waited.

When he spoke, it was with reluctance and clear displeasure. “So you have entrapped me. What do you now intend? Will you not _shatter_ me as you did my compatriots?”

“I said I would keep you safe. I meant it.”

He digested this for a long moment. “Safe,” he mulled. Somehow he crammed a star’s worth of nuance into the bare syllable. Skepticism, humor, bitterness, disgust, sadness, pain, hope… my head near spun from trying to detangle it all. _“You_ would keep _me_ safe?”

“What is the alternative?” I pressed the crystal to my bared chest, holding it tightly. Tears pricked my eyes, and I pressed them shut. “Should I have done as I always have before? Emet-Selch opened my eyes. Should I not have learned from him? From…” I faltered.

“Again you invoke that name. What right have you to so much as utter the syllables? You who walked beside him, learned from him, saw what he showed you of our past, and then turned and slew him.”

Pain snatched the breath from my lungs. “I was dying at the time. The wardens’ light was too much…”

“And you could not simply accept this? One life for one world… Your Minfilia, at the least, understood that much. A shame you could not."

My hands clenched around the crystal, but I forced calm into my voice. "We differ on the nature of the salvation the First requires. And as I have prevailed and you cannot act, it shall follow _my_ path."

He did not appear to have a response for that. Slowly my death grip relaxed, as the day's exertions caught up and made my eyes heavy, my mind logy. Just before sleep would have claimed me, his voice roused me once more.

"Why did you spare me from destruction?"

 _Because I love you._ The frank words nearly spilled from my lips in my sleepy state. I took a deep breath and yawned. "You are the last of the Ancients, no? If I killed you, how would I be any better than an Ascian?"

He did not respond, and before long, sleep fully claimed me.

* * *

Elidibus bided. He could not read his captor’s mind, of course, but he could _feel_ the twirl and eddy of aether as her thoughts dimmed and finally twisted into dreams. Still, though, he waited. The devising and refining of plans—an obnoxious necessity forced upon him by this unexpected reversal—filled the hours until her mind sunk to the deepest part of sleep.

He struck, silent and swift as any venomous serpent. Power, held coiled and wound tight within him, lanced out in a violent rush—a sharp spear to pierce, to create an opening through which he might escape. Aimed at what he calculated to be the weakest part of the weave, it struck true… and bounced off with a soul-deep _clang._ He winced from the backshock.

When first his essence had been drawn into this device, he had fought—first not to become entrapped, then to merely _survive_ as the warring forces of the mazelike crystal threatened to shred him. Were it not for his nature of balance, he might not have survived, at least not intact. But with all of his energies turned to remaining unbroken, he could not fight back until he was fully drawn in and had found his equilibrium.

Those first struggles had immediately proven fruitless. The crystal seemed to be functioning very much as designed—his vast will and might were suppressed to the point where the crystal bearer seemed to have no trouble holding him in. And with what she had said about expecting it to become easier with time… Well. He decided he would not wait for this to occur.

Unfortunately, even gathering and concentrating his strength, even waiting until her will and mind were as weak and distracted as they would ever be (barring some kind of mental instability, he realized, and tucked the thought away for later), even seeking out the least-reinforced portion of the matrix and concentrating the entirety of his will upon it, it was not enough. He was well and truly trapped.

How irritating.

But to dwell upon it would only invite despair, and he was not one to fall to such things. He still had avenues open before him—if he could not force his way out now, that did not mean that further study would not find a way. There was also the Warrior of Light herself, who might be induced, coerced, or tricked into releasing him. The weakest point of any gaol was so often the gaoler… and if he read her interest aright, careful manipulation of her attitude toward him could wind her about his finger, as he had done to so many mortals over the centuries. And if not, he might attempt to inform her friends of her unusual interest in him, since she seemed to have gone to great lengths to keep it concealed.

And, should all else fail, the crystal bearer would live but a few short decades more. He had waited longer for schemes to come to fruition. With a dark smile, he raised a hand, letting aether spill from his fingertips, shaping it with exquisite care, absolute patience. He knew how to both busy himself and hone his craft in the intervening time. This was but a minor setback, a frustrating but ultimately brief delay to his plans. He would bide, and plan, and keep his skills sharp in the meantime.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can it be true? Why can't you see I'm burning for you?  
> There's no disguising my desires, what can I do?  
> All you will know, give me your heart, give me your soul  
> I'll tear it apart so long as you never let me go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was fully written prior to 5.3, but I struggled to post it in its wake. I've decided to take this story upon its original course, so that'll make it somewhat AU since some of 5.3's revelations were entirely unpredictable and, in the end, not worth accommodating.

He was taking too long to come around.

Perhaps I had just overestimated my charm, my ability to win people over. I had begun running commentary for him, relaying anything I thought he might find interesting or entertaining. He rarely engaged me back, though. I needed to find some way to have actual _conversation_ with him instead of just talking _at_ him. My attempts to find a topic that he might find interesting enough to overcome his resistance had not yet borne fruit, though. I needed to try something else.

Inspiration struck in the course of discussing the finer points of my friends' return to the Source. I was barely paying attention to the Exarch's explanation; my role—place the soul containers in my pack and travel as usual back home—was not nearly so difficult as the Scions' own. I half-listened as Beq Lugg detailed laboriously how they should go about focusing and concentrating their memories so as to wind up safely and successfully in the transfer crystals. I was considering that I might excuse myself to take care of other business until they successfully managed to get into the vessels when it struck me—the black auracite was closely related to the soul vessels.

Whatever techniques they used to enter them could no doubt be used to do the same for the auracite.

I listened intently to the suggestions and explanations given, going so far as to risk a few questions under the guise of concern over their state and the possibility that I might need to help them get free of the vessels once back on the Source. As they began final preparations to manage what remained of their affairs on the First, I wandered to the Pendants in a haze. The temptation to dive immediately into the auracite was nigh overwhelming; I missed Elidibus with an agony I could fairly _taste._ But it wouldn't be long before the Scions would need me to bring them back to the Source, and if something were to go wrong, not only could I strand them upon the threshold of success, but I would have to face potentially awkward questions about what I was doing, why I would take such a risk.

They might fall back on their plan to have the Exarch hold the auracite—not needing sleep had almost seen it into _his_ hands rather than mine. Unacceptable.

Of course, I doubted they had the might to _take_ it from me, but they could still make my life miserable if they so chose. No, I would have to be patient a little longer. And it occurred to me that once they had rejoined their bodies back upon the Source, they would no longer be able to come to the First. Aside from the Exarch and young Ryne, I would have free run of the shard. Yes, I decided, the wait would indeed be worthwhile.

Hours trickled like molasses as the time approached. Finally I stood in the Ocular and watched as, one by one, my companions concentrated their essences into the crystals. I clasped hands one last time with the Exarch; no reason to tell him I would be sneaking back soon. With a bag full of carefully packed crystal vessels, I set out for the Source once more.

* * *

I sighed, settling back into my bed, snuggling beneath the covers. The sheets were still cool on my skin, but they would warm up soon enough. I wore nothing except for the necklace holding the black auracite, and the manager of suites knew I was not to be disturbed by anything, though if I didn’t come down within a day he would send someone to check on me.

I had accounted for all variables. Time to visit Elidibus.

I put the practices the Scions had so recently mastered into action, focusing my mind, calming my aether, and bit by bit concentrating and directing it. It was similar, in fact, to the meditation I could do to see that inner place where my crystals of Light shone, though this necessitated I go much deeper and into something external to myself, rather than a purely inner space. Fortunate, then, that the Exarch had been so thorough in his explanation. My kind offer to assist the Scions in their efforts made it a simple enough task to accomplish.

The darkness of closed eyes did not change, but I _felt_ the closeness of the inn suite open up into something more expansive as I made the transition fully. I opened my eyes.

I did; I knew I had, but I could see nothing. For a moment, I panicked, lost. “Elidibus?” I called out, a high, pathetic note in my voice betraying my uncertainty. I hated it, bringing my mind back under firm control. _I_ was the one in charge here, dammit! Of course the Ascian was comfortable in darkness; he was a servant of the Dark, after all. Well, I was Light. I would not let the darkness snuff me.

To my surprise and, though I hated to acknowledge it, relief, I _felt_ him nearby, though he did not respond to my call. I turned to face him and tried walking. I quickly discovered I seemed to be on something resembling ordinary ground, for something cool and lightweight brushed against my calves, parting before my strides. The ground was uneven, forcing me to step carefully, but even so I soon drew up beside a nexus of darkness.

“Hey,” I said, smiling, though I had no idea whether he could see my face.

He did not respond, but the silence seemed abruptly to be flavored with annoyance.

“I hope you’re doing all right. I’ve been worried about you.”

“Is that why you invade the last corner of privacy remaining to me?”

_Finally._ To hear his voice was a balm to my senses. If only I could _see_ him… “What should I do? Leave you alone in here? That would be awfully irresponsible of me, don’t you think?”

Almost I thought he would not respond; I twisted my fingers together, knotting and reknotting them. Eventually he did, the words slow with reluctance. “What do you mean by that?”

“Only that this containment is completely experimental. Were something to go wrong, were you to come to harm, I would never forgive myself.” The old fear, that I would mess this up somehow, rose once more, and I forced it aside. “I’m sorry that you feel like I’m invading your privacy, but you might not even realize were something to go wrong. Or—or you might be unable to communicate. It would help if you would speak to me occasionally, so I know you’re all right.”

Another stubborn silence grew between us. “I will consider it,” he said in a tone as cold as Coerthas.

“Thank you,” I told him softly. “I couldn’t bear for anything to happen to you. I worry about you, you know.”

“You are not serious.”

“In that, you would be mistaken.” I reached out blindly, wishing to touch him. Afraid of feeling him shrink from the contact. For long moments, my arm hung in the blackness. With a sigh, I let it fall.

Air stirred, the faintest breath over me. Even so I started at cool fingertips, leather-clad, upon my chin. My breath caught, and I allowed him to tip my head back and then forth as he apparently studied me. My mind’s eye traced his features, projecting them onto the blackness before me—here would be the line and curve of his arm, and it would join his body so; no doubt his head canted fractionally to one side, lending a thoughtful demeanor to the impassive beaked mask.

He gave a thoughtful hum, and his fingers fell away into the utter dark. “I have existed for millennia before you. I intend to do the same after. You need not trouble yourself on my account. I but wish to be left in peace, if you will not release me.”

The faintest lift at the end of his sentence hinted at an ironic question, but surely he knew I would not likely go to such lengths to capture him only to change my mind. I smiled. “I wish I could, I truly do. Since it is not possible, I hope you will find it in you to forgive me. I would enjoy your conversation upon occasion.”

“I think not.”

“Then forgive me, but I _must_ check up on you from time to time. For your own sake, if nothing else.”

The dark locus that was all I could sense of him seemed to fuzz; to spread out and encircle me somehow. Icy _something_ brushed close, here, there, as though he were winding tendrils about me. I shivered, sudden sweat going chill.

“Let us speak again soon,” I said, and threw myself from the crystal back into my own body.

* * *

I writhed, twisting, trying to break free of the snaring darkness. All around me it wound, in fine threads too small to separate or grasp easily yet too strong to simply snap. I grabbed a few, pulling, and they cut into my skin. Light dribbled weakly from the wounds. At least it didn’t hurt. But it seemed no amount of struggling, of squirming and tugging on the strands, would free me.

Despairing, I fell still, slumping in my prison. The wires, or whatever they were, continued to wind about me, crawling over my skin, encircling my form, moving now to trap my ankles and wrists. I groaned, pulling my limbs in, but it proved futile, barely hampering the progress of the strands. Another noise slipped free as they pulled, inexorable, until I was suspended, fully spread and stretched.

My head slumped, but the progress of the wires did not stop. They slid along me, painting my skin in darkness, obscuring me. Looking down, I could not see my torso at all but for a few slices of as-yet uncovered skin that stood out from the void. My head came up on instinct as the first few probing strands tightened about my neck; now I struggled once again, alarm overriding my dull despair.

All in vain. No matter how I squirmed, it made no difference as pressure wrapped my throat. I jammed my lips tightly together as tickling and poking stands came over my chin, stiff wiry ends probing at my lips. A sound escaped me, a groan born of fear and revulsion as they found my nostrils.

Before panic could overwhelm me, though, my eyes drew to a change in the darkness around me. A single point of red, triangular—and within an instant it swelled to the beak of a familiar mask. Elidibus. The darkness seemed almost a viscous liquid from which he stepped, appearing as one might floating up from a murky pool. I stilled, enraptured at the sight of him. He stopped before me and smiled.

"You seem to have fallen afoul of some difficulty, Warrior."

Restrained mirth lit his tone, and I realized in a flash that he must be somehow responsible for the binds trapping me. It occurred to me that I didn't know precisely _what_ was wrapped around me… Could it be nothing more or less than his dark power?

I swallowed hard, skin prickling at the realization. Suddenly the tight weave of tendrils constricting upon my body felt completely different—a change born of context alone. A groan of a very different tenor escaped me, chills racing up my spine to make my scalp seem almost to shiver. The idea of _him,_ his essence, painted over my flesh made me writhe in needy torment, made me pant for suddenly scarce air.

"Perhaps I can be of assistance."

One hand lifted from his side, rising to find my hip. I gasped as the golden claws of his gloves cut through the strands wrapping me; he drew his hand upward, trailing a burning line of ice over my skin and sending the coiled threads to slip loose, puddling about my curves. His other hand joined in, talons catching the loops and casting them off my body.

I could not help the questioning sound that burst from me when, task completed, his hand caught my hip to bring my body flush against his own. Fine linen chased with raised designs rasped sweetly against my skin, drawing my nipples to tight peaks. His other hand brushed the last wiry strands from my neck and shoulders before sliding up to cup my cheek.

"Is that better?" His breath touched me, warmth ghosting along my skin.

Brow furrowing, I tugged on the binds still wrapping my wrists and ankles. They gave after a few moments' straining effort, sliding free to fall away.

"Yes," I whispered, taking advantage of this new freedom to wind my arms about his waist. I sighed to feel him—lithe muscle under ridged metal, close against my front and where my hand climbed the center of his back.

His chuckle reverberated through my own chest as well. His fingers tightened to bring my face up closer to his own. My heart fluttered frantically as he bent closer, smiling. His head tilted to angle his mouth over mine; his mask pressed lightly against my cheek—

I snapped awake, heart galloping in my chest. Where—

A dream. I cursed, fighting with the sheets that had gotten tangled about me. _Twelve,_ what a dream. I _ached,_ need burning in my belly, the memory of the _feel_ of him, the anticipation—

Cursing again, I slid my hand down my stomach, my legs scissoring wider to accommodate my reach. I moaned as I found my wetness, parting myself shamelessly. Desperate for release, I plunged my longest finger in. My hips bucked at the sensation, but it wasn’t enough. My index finger joined it on the next thrust, giving me more fullness—more, though still not what I craved. But _he_ was unlikely to manifest physically and grant my desire.

My fingers drew wetness forth, further out and up with each press and withdrawal, until it slicked around my clitoris, the sensitive nub already achingly ready. A questing flick, a “come hither” motion worked along its lower side, sent my head back to press into the pillow with a needy sob.

Eyes squeezed shut, I called to mind Elidibus’s mask, his smile. Laying beneath it the expressions, the mannerisms I had observed… the voice… My hips undulated, my other hand joining the first below, to grant me some pathetic measure of fulfillment as I imagined his mouth upon my own, as I recalled the touch upon my hip, the feel of his robe on my skin. The way his lips would surely taste upon my own… just so. Another turn of my fingers sparked the idea of his kiss upon my vulva instead, the mask’s protruding nose overlying my mons, pressing in…

With a final sobbed attempt at his name, I shattered apart, thighs clenching about my hands and fingers twitching in time to helpless shocks, rocking in the grips of ecstasy. I panted as the wringer clenching me slowly released. Heedless of the mess I had made of my hands, I clasped the auracite in a desperate grip, holding it close as I rolled onto my side. The exhaustion of all I had gone through seized me in slow but inexorable waves, drawing me under and into a dreamless sleep this time.

* * *

I smiled at the young woman, warmed by her infectious joy. “Happy to help,” I assured her, waving off the handful of gil she tried to press upon me. By her worn attire (and the request for assistance in procuring mole meat outside the city) I divined she had little enough to spare. “Is there anything else I can get you? I have some skill at weaving…”

“Oh! No, I couldn’t possibly accept that! This is already so much…” She looked down at the carefully wrapped parcel. It didn’t seem like much to me. But to a starveling orphan, it might be the difference between survival and death. With a sigh, I conceded defeat.

“Very well. But please, never be afraid to ask me for help if you need it. I like helping people, okay?”

Another grin, brighter than the desert sun, beamed up at me. “Of course! You’re nice. Thanks again, lady!” With a wave she turned and darted through the crowd.

Worry spurred me as I watched her leave. She was far too young to be on her own, though it was nothing I could truly remedy. Still, I kept an eye on her fair hair, following at a distance as she made her way through the crowded market toward the front gate. Maybe I could…

“What do you expect to accomplish?”

Elidibus’s voice startled me into momentary stillness; I had to hurry a few steps as the waif disappeared around a buttress. “I just want to make sure she gets home safely. What point in getting her some food if she never gets a chance to eat it?”

“No doubt she would not have survived so long without the wiles necessary to evade danger.”

“Probably.” I had to restrain a shrug; bad enough I was talking to myself in public. “I just can’t help but worry.”

“Mmm.” A lengthy silence followed the thoughtful sound. “You cannot possibly save everyone, you realize. Not with mortal methodology, at the least.”

The reminder froze me, crystallizing the fears already lurking within me over this child. Of course I couldn’t save everyone, I wanted to say, but perhaps I can save _her._ Even if just for a day.

It hurt how true his words were, though. The star was vast, and I was just one woman.

I cursed as I realized I had lost the girl in the bustle of the crowd flowing through the city’s front gate. I stretched up onto my toes, peering about, staunchly ignoring Elidibus’s soft chuckle. Nothing. Damn it.

With a sigh I gave up, falling back flat onto my feet and glancing about dispiritedly. May as well head back to the Adventurer’s Guild to wait for Alphinaud. Seating myself at a table to wait, I folded my hands in front of my mouth, hoping to obscure the fact that I was talking to myself. “You made me lose her.”

“Did I?” Amusement colored his tone. Well, good for him. At least one of us was pleased. I sighed but made no further acknowledgement of his evasion. “Perhaps it was your attention that was lacking.”

I hissed out an aggravated sigh. “You knew that would distract me.”

Another chuckle. “Of course. Even sundered, you remain easy enough to predict once one divines your goals.”

What? “What—Elidibus, what is that supposed to mean?”

"Release me, and in return I shall tell you all."

I growled, frustrated. When he got like that I had no hope of getting anything from him. Biting back on an instinctive and cranky response, I turned my attention upon the swelling crowd of patrons coming off their day's shifts for a quick meal or a drink. Surely Alphinaud would be here soon.

* * *

Elidibus spared a bare fraction of his attention to follow the ongoing discussion with the Scions, turning the rest of his mind to his plans. This most recent hypothesis he had begun to test certainly seemed promising. Of course the great hero of the Source must have been someone of note before the Sundering; this he had never doubted. But the precise knowledge of _which_ great soul she once was… now there was an interesting puzzle. One he suspected he had now solved.

After all, Emet-Selch’s behavior had been decidedly erratic. While it could be no more than the centuries taking their toll upon him, Elidibus had rather thought better of him. If this was indeed who he believed it was, well. It would explain a great deal.

What was more, it could prove useful indeed should he succeed in winning her over to Zodiark’s side, or merely bending her to his will. For a sundered mortal her gift was quite powerful, and many and more seats upon the Convocation currently stood empty, making it infernally difficult to properly execute the governing body’s will.

But all of that could come later. For now, he should like to be certain of what he suspected. To that end he continued to create, to shape this place with illusion indistinguishable from reality. When next she made her way here, he would not need to cut off the illumination for fear of showing his hand; nay, all was sufficiently ready at this point. Sooner or later she would come, and when she did her shock would leave all barriers low.

He _would_ know that which he wished to ascertain.

Whether this would lead to freedom for him was less certain, but as with all paths it began with the first step. Or perhaps, he mused, horticulture might provide a better analogy, for the seed was planted. Presuming it should germinate, he could begin to shape and prune its growth, to direct it in a form useful to himself and his cause. It would be more difficult to nurture a plant he did not recognize, of course, but he had managed before, and would do so again. But his instincts remained sure—this _must_ be that soul.

And, given that assumption, he knew well just how this Warrior of Light would behave, given the proper motivation. With a smile born of bedrock confidence, he returned to his task of creation.


End file.
